JORDACHE PACED HER LIVING ROOM. When that didn’t help, she put on her shoes and went running, which was strange because she wasn’t a runner. The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but for some reason she felt safe running even while wearing a sleeveless tank up top (her sports bras were in the laundry and regular bras chafed when exercising), girls jiggling and giving a show. There were men who might have given her a problem, but Jordache knew how to avoid them. One was two blocks away, hassling a guy who owed him money. The other was a group of teens hanging out on Emma Pope Boulevard, near the theater. Her most logical running route took Jordache by both, but knowing what was out there made her change her route. Simple. Safe. She wondered why everyone didn’t do things this way, or why she hadn’t before today.
The run didn’t help. She still felt restless. She still wanted to talk to Danny. In fact, now that that particular bubble had popped, she kind of wanted to drag Danny back here, strip him nude, and take another ride. But mostly she wanted to chat. To let him know what was going on. Because holy shit, PhageX had given her some great results so far, but this was another level.
She saw the thing on the news about the mall downtown. And she’d really enjoyed meeting Holly Gaynor. She was pretty sure that hadn’t actually happened last night because she’d been with Danny (and she wasn’t crazy, ha-ha), but she also understood why Holly wouldn’t want all that public attention. Good thing too much attention wasn’t something Jordache needed to worry about.
She was hungry.
There wasn’t much in the pantry or fridge. She needed to go shopping. She could go to the market. It would be nice to cross it off the list, and she was already pretty sure she’d be calling in sick to work because if she did, Danny could come over again, and that would be good because holy shit, her mind was going a mile a minute, and she needed someone to talk to.
Crackers. Peanuts. Spices she’d never really used in cooking, even though the idea of learning how to cook, right now, sounded really appealing. In the fridge, she had a few things of yogurt, Greek, vanilla, and some of those little cheese wheel things that came covered in red wax. And two steaks, which Danny had run out for, after they’d had sex the first time but before the second, when he’d been inspired and decided they should celebrate. But they’d never made it that far. They’d fucked with her sitting up on the sink.
Jordache pulled her computer from its little alcove. Found a cooking website. Scanned it. Steak, sure, yeah, she could make steak. But then she got too goddamned hungry to wait and ate one of them raw.
Maybe she should talk to Holly again.
Or the other guy.
Not Weasel. She didn’t think she could talk to Weasel, and didn’t want to. Fuck that guy. He was out there somewhere, maybe, still alive/dead, whatever it was, worse than she herself was alive/dead, but the right amount according to that clarifier who came by yesterday, ha-ha.
Jordache went to YouTube. She didn’t remember which of the Bobby Baltimore videos she’d seen Weasel in, except that she did and it was the fourth from the second season, time index 21:46.
She watched it. Maybe it was him. She could ask. Not Holly. But the other guy. The tall blond guy.
She texted Danny: I went for a run.
Danny didn’t respond.
That’s when Jordache realized people might be coming for her and she might need to hide.
She sat in the back of her little closet, letting the clothes conceal her.
After a few seconds of hiding and becoming increasingly certain that she might need to fight her way out of here when push came to shove, Jordache got hungry again, grabbed the other steak from the fridge, and ate that one, too.